Goldilocks He Is Not
by Evenmoor
Summary: Detective Lieutenant Patrick Bonanno returns to his hospital room, only to discover that someone is sleeping in his bed.


**Setting:** Between episodes 2.14, "The Three Strikes Job," and 3.01, "The Jailhouse Job" for _Leverage_, and during season five for _Stargate Atlantis_.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own the series or their characters. I do, however, enjoy watching them.  
><strong>AN: **I thought it would be great fun to put two of my favorite recurring characters from two series I love together in the same fic. This story from Lorne's perspective can be found in Chapter 75 of my Evan Lorne one-shot collection, _Conversations and Observations_.

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><p>Patrick Bonanno insisted on walking back to his room by himself. It wasn't that he was in denial about how much he'd been aerated by automatic weapons fire; every throbbing pain in his torso reminded him of that. No, it wasn't that. It was just that the solicitousness of the nurses and rehab people was, quite frankly, getting on his nerves.<p>

So, despite their looks of concern and recrimination, he slowly, carefully, made his way back to the room in the hospital that had been his prison for far too long in his estimation. Bonanno leaned heavily on his cane, not ashamed or embarrassed to be using the prop. Given that he hadn't been expected to survive at all, it hardly seemed worth the energy to fuss over it, after all. And, when he was ready, he'd set it aside, too, and get back to the business of putting crooks behind bars.

By the time he arrived at his room, he was more than ready to simply collapse and sleep for the next three weeks, so Bonanno was somewhat surprised to discover someone already occupying his bed. For a moment, he just stared at the apparently somnolent figure, covers pulled all the way up. He felt like Baby Bear in the old nursery story: _Somebody is sleeping in my bed!_

"What the- what are you doin' in my bed?" he asked irritably. It wasn't as if he were in the wrong room. And they wouldn't move him without telling him. Though, given the nature of all bureaucracies, it was _possible_.

The fellow sat up immediately, having only been feigning sleep. He had short brown hair framing wide, almost wild, dark eyes. Under the covers, he wore no shirt, revealing not only a well-defined musculature but pale scars from old wounds. _Knife, bullet, another bullet, and I don't even know what that was. Jeez._ Either this guy came from a really nasty neighborhood, or he'd been sent to one.

"Who are you? How long have you been here?" the stranger demanded, as if Bonanno were the intruder.

"Hey, I could ask you the same question," Bonanno retorted, still irritated at the whole situation. Who was this guy, anyway?

"Major Lorne." _Military_. It was certainly consistent with his hair cut and scars. The man climbed out of bed and stalked past Bonanno to glance furtively out the door. Bonnano took the opportunity to sit down on his vacated bed before he collapsed. "They captured me and my team. They're somewhere around here... I don't know what these guys've been doing, but my head is killing me," Lorne said. Bonanno realized that Lorne's eyes weren't actually dark - he saw rings of bright blue around pupils that were like black saucers.

Was he having a PTSD flashback episode? Given his behavior, it seemed possible, though his complaint of head pain and his dilated eyes meant he was probably injured, likely a concussion. And, given the circumstances, he was likely extremely dangerous. His cop instincts taking over, Bonanno knew that he had to keep Lorne calm. "Major Lorne, huh? I'm Lieutenant Bonanno," he offered, figuring that his rank would create a bond of trust he could work with.

The ploy succeeded. "Where you from, Lieutenant?" the major asked, his breathing somewhat ragged and irregular.

"Boston. Just up the street, you know! You, Major?" Bonanno had to keep this going, draw it out. He saw the sweat on Lorne's brow, and he figured that the major was probably running on borrowed time. But until then, he had to keep him occupied and trusting.

"San Francisco. We need to get out of here, find my team, get back home."

There was that mention of his team again. Part of Bonanno wondered what Lorne and his team _did_, but the wiser part reminded him that such things were best not to ask. There was, however, something else he _could_ ask which might give him some answers. "Huh. Say, Major, you got any idea where we are?"

"Good question. I don't know how long I've been unconscious, and whatever they've been giving me is... I don't know! I just need to think!" Lorne grimaced, pressing his fingers to his temples in obvious pain. Bonanno felt a wave of sympathy wash over him. The man was lost, alone, confused, and in pain, trying to find a team that wasn't there in a place he didn't recognize. He must be terrified.

"You don't look so good, Major. Why don't you sit down a minute? I'll keep an eye on the door," Bonanno suggested, hoping to get Lorne to lay down again. He needed the bed more than Bonanno did, it seemed.

The major turned back towards him and a strange expression crossed his face. He took about two steps back into the room before whatever energy he'd been running on just expired, and he collapsed abruptly to the floor. Wincing, Bonanno pressed the call button to summon a nurse and went to check on the unconscious major.

"Are you alright?" a female nurse asked as she rushed into the room. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" She wasn't one of the nurses he knew well from his stay here, but he recognized her face.

"No, no, nothing like that. Why, did he hurt someone else?" asked the police detective in him.

The nurse knelt down next to them, checking Lorne's vital signs. "It's nothing you need to worry about, sir," she replied, but her voice was pitched unusually high. For a nurse, she was a very bad liar.

Bonanno sighed heavily. "Look, I'm a detective lieutenant with the Massachusetts State Police. You can tell me now, or I'll get it out of someone else, likely hindering my recovery with my over-exertions. So, you wanna answer my question or not?"

The woman stared at him in shock for a moment. "He escaped from his room and overpowered a nurse, took his clothes and left him in a closet." She stood quickly and leaned out the door. "Gary!" she called to one of her colleagues. "I found the missing car accident victim!"

It was a few minutes work to carefully remove the unconscious major on a gurney and return him to his room. Relieved of his charge. Bonanno finally lay down in his bed and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

~o0o~

The next morning, he felt the urge to follow up on Lorne. The major had clearly seen combat; he had the scars to prove it. And Bonanno felt it was his duty to make sure that he didn't wake up alone in a strange place again. So he hobbled on his cane until he located the right room. To his disgust - though not his surprise - he saw that Lorne had been restrained to prevent a second escape. No doubt they didn't want another nurse tied up in the closet.

The major's eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell slowly but evenly. It seemed this time he really was asleep as Bonanno sat down next to him. Maybe Lorne had never been farther away from home than he was now.

"Don't worry, Major," Bonanno said quietly, reassuringly. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

He had been there maybe half an hour when a man in Air Force blues appeared in the door. A quick glance told Bonanno that this fellow, a major by the gold leaves on his shoulders, was no mere pencil-pusher. He had more than enough ribbons on his chest to prove it. But more than that, it was the almost haunted look in his eyes, the lines on his face. He stopped dead when he saw Bonanno sitting by Lorne's bed. "Excuse me, sir, but who are you?" he demanded. Politely phrased, but there was no misunderstanding the authority in his voice.

"I'm Detective Lieutenant Patrick Bonanno, Massachusetts State Police. Currently something of a neighbor to the good major here. And you are...?" Bonanno asked brightly.

The man frowned, his dark brows closing over his brilliant blue eyes. He could have been Lorne's brother, Bonanno mused, though this man was of narrower build and construction. "Major Paul Davis, Pentagon," he replied in a busque tone that clearly said, _Don't press the issue._

"Pentagon, huh?" Bonanno cast a glance at the sleeping man on the bed. It was possible that Lorne worked for the Pentagon, but he doubted it. Therefore, Davis here was no doubt here to protect operational security for whatever it was that Lorne _was _involved with. Charming. "Don't worry, I'm not here to dig up your deep dark secrets, Major. I just met Lorne here last night when he came to my room by mistake. Concussion can do that to a person. I hear he's going to be fine, though."

"And you came to his room this morning out of concern for his well-being." It wasn't clear whether Davis believed him or not. Frankly, it was a bit annoying.

"Yeah, that's right," retorted Bonanno. "Does that surprise you, Major?"

Davis's lips twitched slightly. "Yes, a bit," he replied with remarkable honesty as he stepped all the way into the room. "It's been our experience that local law enforcement is usually focused on its own cases and concerns, rather than looking at the bigger picture."

Wait a minute. "Cases? Is this guy involved with a police case?" Bonanno asked in confusion.

Now the surprise was clear on Davis's face. "The vehicle that hit Major Lorne's was being driven by a man involved in organized crime. Your agency is the investigating authority in the matter."

Unbelievable. Bonanno couldn't help but chuckle, his forehead resting on his palm. "You might not have noticed, but I've been a bit tied up, Major. Did you happen to get the name of the guy?" he asked, still overcome with amusement. The answer only made him laugh more. Davis stared at him, nonplussed, so Bonanno was obliged to explain. "We've only been trying to get that guy for five years now! Lorne here comes to town and gets smacked by him, suddenly my own task force is on the case! If I weren't laid up, I'd be investigating it. I think you can appreciate the coincidence in that, Major Davis."

Remarkably, Davis unbent enough to share a bit of a smile. "It does seem a bit unlikely," he acknowledged. "Thank you for looking out for him, Lieutenant."

"My pleasure, Major."


End file.
